Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1887-04-30
SELECT POETRY.
---~-O-~-~-~OI--O~~-~-
The Letter that Found Him Dead.

During his confinement as prisoner c
war at Camp Chase, Ohio, fellow prisone
who had been fatally wounded, was asked b
Colonel Hawkins, q Confederate officer, VIII
he seemed so down-hearted. He replied tina
he was grleved at not hearing from his al
fianced bride. When he saw he must die, h
requested Col. Hawkins to open and anSwe
any letter that might come for him. He ais
requested that lock of hair which he had
be buried with him. Soon after his death
letter was received from the young lady il
which she curtly broke off the engagement
After reading it Col. Hawkins replied in tn
following beautiful lines
Your letter came. but came too late,
For Heaven had claimed its own.
All sudden change from prison bars
Up to the Great White Throne!
And yet think he would have stayed
For one more day of pain,
Could he have read these tardy words
Which you have sent in vain.
Why did you wait, fair lady,
Through so many weary hour?
Had you other lovers with you
In your silken, dainty bower?
Did others bow before your charms
And twine bright garlands there?
And yet | ween in all that throng
His spirit had llo peer.
wish that You were with me now,
As draw the sheet aside,
To see how pure the look he wore
Awhile before he died
How the sorrow that you gave him
Still had left its weary trace,
And a meek and sanity sadness
Dwels upon his pallid face.
Her love-" he said could change for me
The winters cold to spring"
All trust of thoughtless maiden's love,
Thou art a bitter thing!
For when these valleys fair, in May
Once more with bloom shall wave,
The northern violet shall blow
Above his humble grave.
Your dole of scanty words had been
But one pang more to bear;
Though to the last he kissed with love
This tress of your soft hair.
1 did not put it where he said,
For when the angels come
/ would not have them find the sign
OF falsehood in the tomb.
I've read the letter. and know
The wiles that you have wrought
To win that noble heart of his,
And gained it-fearful thought.
What lavish wealth men sometimes give
For a trifle light and small
What manly forms are ofttimes held
In folly's tlimsy thrall.
You shall not pity him, for now
Hes past your hope and fear
Although | wish that you could stand
With me beside his bier.
Still forgive you; Heaven knows
For mercy you'll have need,
Since God his awful judgments send
On each unworthy deed.
Tonight the cold winds whistle by
AS | my vigil keep
Within the prison dead-house, where
Few mourners come to weep.
A rude plank coffin holds him now,
Yet death gives always grace;
Still would rather see him thus
Than clasped i'll your embrace.
Tonight your rooms are very gay
With wit and wine and song;
And you are smiling, just as if
You never did 4 wrong;
Your hand so fair that none would think
Itpenned these words of pain;
Your skin so white-would God your soul
Were half SO free from stain
I'd rather be this dear, dear friend,
Than you in all your glee,
For you are held in grievous bonds,
While he's forever free.
Whom we serve in this lite we serve
In that which is to come;
He chose his way; you yours. Let God
Pronounce the fitting doom.